Echoes in the Wire Unspooling Day 1
Scene 1 In the cradle of copper veins, where the first byte flickered like a eucalyptus firefly against the millennial dusk of 2000, threads uncoiled—raw and unbidden, a post-punk snarl weaving through the static hum of dial-up dreams. Imagine the snare drum's ghost-crack echoing off Uluru's red flanks , not as a conquest but as a lover's bruise, blooming violet under star-pricked skin. Here, rebellion wasn't a fist raised in Canberra's marbled halls but a glitch in the grid . A Laughing Clowns howl warping the airwaves, sonic annotation—jagged guitar riffs splintering into didgeridoo drones , fading to the hiss of cooling circuits. The wire remembers: a young voice, pixels pulsing with the fury of forgotten tapes, cassette ribbons unravelling like the Murray-Darling 's parched secrets, whispering of bans that bind not bodies but bytes, burqas woven into neural lace, veils pleading for the light they obscure. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge Jo...


And ironically I found this post through Twitter while sitting down to write a post myself.
ReplyDeleteI agree, it's a constant battle to stay on track. When I'm working I often shut Twitter off completely, those little flashes that something new has arrived are too tempting. I try to deal with email twice a day - when I get up I go through and delete, then at the end of the day I answer things I've had a chance to think about.
At least that's the aim!